


push and give

by whiplash



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, aaron's grumpy but awesome, but gets a blow job instead, canon self harm, canon sexual child abuse, ptsd (car crash), robert needs a hug, robert wears his heart on his sleeve, stupid boys in love, they're both stupid boys, yet somehow fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiplash/pseuds/whiplash
Summary: A story in which Robert's very much in love and Aaron's a flipping enigma (except for how he's really not.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know what to tell you about this story.
> 
> It's a love story, of that much I'm certain. But it's also a story with far more sex stuff than I'm usually comfortable writing. It's a story about misunderstandings and insecurity and a stupid dragged-out fight. But equally, it's a story about two people with great insight into each other and a seemingly never-ending ability to forgive. So, well, I guess it's a lot like the show, yes? 
> 
> Anyway, it's certainly a story that's taken me outside my comfort zone so any and all feedback's much appreciated.

" _Sex toys_?” Aaron says, pulling back and out of reach.

Moments ago his face had been soft, gaze warm and mouth slack. Now the softness vanishes, Aaron’s eyes narrow and his lips thin. Without him, the room feels colder and Robert shivers, reaching down to drag the duvet back over his hips. 

“It was just a suggestion,” he says, taking care to keep his voice gentle. Not that he truly expects it to do much good. Aaron’s already been spooked, pushed well outside his comfort zone. Pretty words won’t do them much good now. As if to prove it, Aaron narrows his eyes even further, until they’re little more than thin slits of glittering distrust. 

“Some suggestion,” he says flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He’s sitting back on his heels now, boxer-clad backside resting on his heels and bare knees sinking into the mattress. Even scowling he manages to look good, skin pulled taut over muscles born from hard work. There are marks on that skin, not just old scars but fresh blemishes left there by Robert earlier that evening. Red and purple bruises dotted in a line underneath Aaron’s collar bone and the faint outline of fingers on his upper arms. 

Robert had been loath to leave behind such marks on Chrissy, but with Aaron it’s different. While Chrissy always acted horrified to see Robert so abandoned, Aaron just shudders and claws at the sheets when Robert mouths and nips at his skin. His pupils blow wide when Robert’s blunt nails drag down his spine and he jerks his hips when Robert’s teeth worry at the insides of his thighs. Aaron never shies away from him. Instead he's always drawing him closer, always pulling him deeper and deeper until he's bottoms out and there’s no longer a way for Robert to tell where he ends and Aaron begins. 

“If it’s not something that you’re interested in,“ he begins now only for Aaron to interrupt him. 

“It’s not,” he insists, the words coming out hot and hurt. 

“-then I’ll not mention it again,” Robert finishes, aiming for amicable. 

A heart beat later he finds himself ruefully acknowledging that he might have overshot and come out sounding patronising instead. Aaron’s scowl deepens and he pushes out of bed, padding on bare feet across the floor to the window. Cracks it open just a sliver before digging through his sock drawer for the illicit cigarettes and lighter that he keeps there for moments just like these. As far as Aaron’s concerned, sulking and smoking go hand-in-hand. A better man would probably try and get him to quit but Robert just leans back against the headboard and watches Aaron’s clever fingers as they work the lighter and his soft lips as they tighten around the cigarette. Watches his cheeks hollow with the force of his inhale and his belly expand as he sends smoke drifting out the window. Watches the play of light and shadow across his familiar face. 

“Don’t be cross with me,” he says, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He feels his cheeks warm, hating how pathetic the plea must make him sound, and when Aaron looks at him he squirms, feeling naked even though he’s the one half-covered by a duvet and Aaron’s the one in nothing but tight underwear and scarred skin. He’s messing this up, he thinks, the realization tinged with the need to set things right. His mind begins to spin as he tries to plan ahead. Chrissy had shunned flowers and chocolates, never settling for anything but the biggest of gestures. In a way, Robert had been grateful for that. Grateful for a chance to work hard and prove himself. If given half a chance he would do the same for Aaron, would do and give _more_ , only he hasn’t figured out how yet. 

He will, he vows. If Aaron just gives him the time, then he will. 

“Stop thinking,” Aaron orders, putting out his cigarette against the window sill. He blows one last mouthful of smoke towards the night sky, then closes the window. He stalks back to the bed, only this time his body seems more at ease, and after crawling back into bed he settles next to Robert as if nothing’s happened. As if Robert’s somehow already been forgiven. 

Robert steals a glance at him, trying hard not to let his confusion show. 

“Told you to stop thinking,” Aaron scolds. He tugs at the duvet, manoeuvring himself so that his body slots into the empty space next to Robert’s. His skin’s cold and tight with goose bumps, his toes freezing as they brush against Robert’s shins. The stink of cigarettes cling to his skin and his breath, but Robert can’t quite convince himself that he cares. Not when he pushes his shoulder against Aaron’s and Aaron now only allows it but also pushes back. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Robert ventures. “It was just a…” 

“Suggestion,” Aaron fills in as he falters. His lips twitch. “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just never…” 

“Never found yourself in bed with an old pervert before?” Robert suggests with a sheepish smile, figuring that if he plays it all self-deprecating then at least he’ll spare Aaron the awkwardness of feeling inexperienced. He’s hoping for a grin, but instead the other man flinches, his mouth twisting into something grim and unhappy. Replaying what he’d just said, Robert blanches. 

“I’ll just go ahead and shut up now,” he says, steeling himself for what’s to come. For Aaron to storm off again, huffing and puffing. Or, even worse, for Aaron to lay down all still and quiet, within reach yet miles away. But Aaron just sighs and flops down on his back, dragging Robert down with him. 

“Yeah, that might be good,” he agrees. There’s nothing unkind in his voice though, just gruff exhaustion. 

He curls up on his side, like he always does, and doesn’t stiffen as Robert inches closer. Lifts his head on cue as Robert snakes an arm underneath him and seems to collapse in relief as Robert drapes his other arm around his waist. They lie nose to neck, belly to back, groin to buttocks. Their legs tangle together and Robert presses a kiss against the nape of Aaron’s neck in wordless apology. Receives a chaste press of lips against his knuckles in acknowledgement. Falls asleep, more relieved than disappointed. 

xxx 

The next morning, Aaron sits at the breakfast table with toast and a mug of milky tea, his fingers scratching absently against his chest as he listens to Liv moaning about her new English teacher. Something she says makes him smile, changing the very landscape of his face. Toast crumbs cling to the corner of his mouth and Robert has to tighten his hands into fists, carefully tucking his thumbs in under his fingers to keep from reaching out and brushing them away. Through a Herculean effort he drags his eyes away from Aaron’s face, focusing instead on the man’s fingers. At how they unerringly manage to track down each and every bruise that Robert has left behind, fingertips pressing into them through the thick fabric of his sweater as if to make sure that they’re all still there. 

“Alright?” Rober murmurs as soon as Liv steps away from the table, her pony-tail bouncing and her backpack hanging over one shoulder. She leaves behind a stained mug and a plate covered with crumbs. Any other morning Robert would call after her, telling her off for leaving her mess behind for others to sort out. But the words stick in his throat, his eyes drawn back to Aaron's thumb idly rubbing at his own skin. 

“Mhm,” Aaron grunts in reply to his question. He chews with his mouth half-open and washes the toast down with a gulp of tea. His Adam’s apple bobs and, once again, Robert finds himself struggling with the urge to reach out and touch. 

“You’re staring,” Aaron tells him, eyes glittering in a silent laugh. 

“Maybe we should shower,” Robert says, somehow managing not to stutter. “Together. Maybe we should shower together.” 

Aaron laughs then. It’s a quiet sound, soft and private like a moan. Shakes his head as he pushes to his feet, his fingers brushing over Robert’s shoulder and up his neck. He cups his hand over the back of Robert’s head and the palm of his hand’s warm and his fingers strong as he urges Robert to tilt his head. They kiss and Robert licks the crumbs away. Catches a taste of milky tea and minty toothpaste and wants to taste more. 

“See you later,” Aaron says.

It sounds like a promise.


	2. Chapter 2

In the evening, they go out for a curry.

On the ride home, a deer dashes out in front of the car, forcing Robert to veer into the opposite lane. After that, they stop talking. They keep their eyes on the road. They try hard not to think about cold lake water and that last desperate kiss. Or, at least, that’s what Robert _assumes_ they’re doing until Aaron suddenly opens his mouth and ruins the illusion of shared misery. 

“So, that’s something you’ve done before then?” he asks. 

A car passes by, the lights bright and blinding and Robert curses under his breath, foot easing up on the accelerator. Squinting at the road, fingers aching from how hard he’s clutching the steering wheel, he struggles to remember their previous conversation. They’d spoken about Liv’s horrible report card, hadn’t they? Even laughed some as they compared it to Aaron’s even less impressive grades at the same age. Then Robert had complained about the weather, laying some of the groundwork for the trip he’s hoping to surprise Aaron with at Christmas. But none of that seems to go with Aaron’s question. 

“I mean, I can’t imagine Chrissy being much into that sort of stuff,” Aaron continues, his voice low and thoughtful. “Rebecca though… Yeah, I guess that would be right up her alley.” 

Robert puts two and two together and tears his eyes away from the road, throwing a startled glance in Aaron’s direction. As far as he’d been concerned, that particular subject had been well and truly dropped after Aaron’s reaction the other night. 

“No pun intended,” Aaron adds, his lips first twitching, then stretching into a filthy smirk as he notices Robert’s incredulous stare. He’s got one knee tucked close to his chest, dirty trainer resting against the dashboard and his phone’s lit up, illuminating his face in different shades of blue and grey. 

“You trying to cause an accident?” Robert hisses, his eyes darting back to the road. 

“Nah,” comes the easy answer. “If anything, I’m trying to keep you from having a heart attack.” 

Robert’s chest _does_ feel tight. He loosens his grip on the steering wheel and rubs at his sternum, imagining that his fingers can feel the raised scar from the operation even through the layers of fabric. Scowling he leans back in his seat and forces his foot to grow heavier on the accelerator. 

“I’m fine,” he claims, somewhat belatedly. “As for your question, well, I’ll have you know that a true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” 

Aaron snorts, his disbelief filling the car and his trainer scuffing against the dashboard as he shifts in his seat. He’s all bundled up, wearing a thick gilet over his hoodie and he’s got his sleeves pulled over his hands even though Robert’s told him a million and one times that it’ll ruin his clothes. 

“Some gentleman,” Aaron grumbles. “Asking his boyfriend if he wants to…“ 

His voice wavers as if what Robert had suggested the other night had been something truly _awful_. The road’s dark, Robert’s fingers hurt from clenching the steering wheel and he can’t stop thinking about how heavy Aaron’s slack body had been in the water and this time, this time it’s Robert who snorts. 

“You’re a grown man, you can say the words,” he says in a voice that’s taunting and unpleasant. A voice that belongs to the old Robert. “Seriously, Aaron. I wasn’t suggesting that we invite Lawrence to join us for a threesome. I just asked how you felt about maybe, possibly, investing in a couple of sex toys. This time and age, that’s not so very shocking, you know. In fact, I bet your mum has a-“ 

He bites his tongue. Knows that he’s messed up even before he feels the heat of Aaron’s glare. The next couple of miles creep along in strained silence. They meet a couple of cars heading in the other direction. Even follow a tractor at snail’s speed for a mile or so, before it turns off down a service road. 

“Sorry,” Robert says as soon as he trusts his own voice again. 

“Yeah,” Aaron mutters, the single word brimming with scorn. He’s staring out the passenger side window and chewing on his fingers. His entire body’s leaning away from Robert, putting as much space between the two of them as the small car will allow. He doesn’t look sullen this time, just hurt and angry. 

“I am,” Robert insists, wanting to explain but not knowing how to even begin voicing any of the stuff going through his head without sounding like an absolute prat. 

A motorcycle speeds past them, doing sixty an hour despite the curving country roads. It’s an accident waiting to happen, Robert thinks, and at the thought it’s like a hand reaches into his chest and squeezes the air out of his lungs and the blood out of his heart. 

“I could drive, you know,” Aaron says. “When you don’t feel up to it, I could drive. I don’t mind.” 

He’s taken his fingers out of his mouth which Robert supposes lends a bit more credibility to his claim. He’s stopped staring out the window too. Robert knows because he can feel Aaron’s eyes on him and he wonders, feeling ill-at-ease in his own skin, just what’s written across his face for his partner to read. 

“I don’t mind,” Aaron repeats, voice calm and steady. 

“You’re the one who almost died,” Robert snaps, feeling dizzy and wishing that they were back home already. He wants to hide himself away in the bathroom and change out of the shirt that clings to his back and bunches uncomfortably under his arms. Wants to go to bed and wake up to another day, one where he's his normal self again instead of this awkward, flustered stranger. 

“I suppose,” Aaron agrees lightly, shrugging that truth off like it’s nothing. “But, Rob, you’re the one who’s struggling to cope.” 

“I’m sorry,” Robert repeats. 

He’s not all that sure anymore what it is that he's apologizing for...


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn’t ask Aaron to join him in the shower.

It’s not that kind of shower. Not that kind of evening. He takes his time in there, scrubbing the washcloth over his body and hating how his wet hair clings to his face. Feels bad memories prickling at his mind and, lifting his face to the spray of the water, he lets himself be ambushed. It’s never as bad as he thinks it will be, never as bad as it had been in reality, but it still leaves him shaken. Afterward his face looks red and blotchy in the mirror, but he imagines that he’ll be able to get away with blaming it on the heat of the shower. 

He leaves his clothes – rumpled, stinking of curry, beer and sweat – in the laundry basket, resting on top of Aaron’s black t-shirt and Liv’s grey cardigan. Makes a mental note to put some laundry on in the morning. Maybe give the bathroom a scrub too. While he’s at it, Liv could probably do with a reminder to tidy her room. It looks nearly as bad as Andy’s had, back when they were children. 

Steeling himself, Robert unlocks the door and slips down the hallway. His hair’s still damp from the shower and there’s a towel wrapped around his hips. There’s nothing wrong with his body – nothing but the scar bisecting his chest and the crow’s feet by his eyes, the softness of his belly and the boniness of his ankles and maybe a couple of other private insecurities – but even so he hurries and feels his shoulders sag in relief as he closes the door behind him. 

He expects to find Aaron already tucked up underneath the duvet, his back demonstratively turned towards the door. Or maybe brooding by the window again, poisoning his body and burning his fingertips as he smokes each cigarette down to the filter. Instead Robert finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, still dressed and with his bottom lip all chewed up and sore-looking. 

Robert opens his mouth – not sure what to say, but certain that something will come to him – but he falls quiet as Aaron jumps to his feet and stalks across the room. His hands burn hot against Robert’s skin as he turns him around and pushes him backward foot by foot until the back of Robert’s knees hit the edge of the bed. Robert holds his ground there, not pushing back as much as widening his stance and shifting his weight so that he stays solid and immoveable. Relief floods Aaron’s eyes, as if to remind Robert of the unspoken truth that the only thing that Aaron needs more than to push, is for someone to not back down. 

“Wanna blow you,” Aaron says now, the words rushed and tinged with need. He’s just a couple of inches shorter than Robert, but somehow he still manages to give the expression that he’s looking _up_ at him. That he’s _entreating_ him. 

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Robert assures him, wishing that his voice, just this once, could come out sounding smooth and suave. Instead it trembles as if determined to betray just how weak his knees have become. He exhales, a shallow, stuttering breath, as he counts himself lucky that Aaron’s not like Chrissie, or Rebecca, or Katie, or any of the others. That they’re not playing a game and that Robert’s embarrassing eagerness won’t be held against him. 

“Kiss first,” he says, begging really but Aaron takes it like an order and presses their mouths together. It’s half wet and sloppy, half teeth and whiskers and it makes no sense that it should leave Robert breathless and eager for more. Makes even less sense that Aaron breaks away from it looking desperate, his eyes wide and his lips already swollen. 

“Alright,” he breathes just before he sinks to his knees, hitting the floor hard enough that it must hurt. But Aaron doesn’t act like he notices, doesn’t act like he cares about anything but tugging the towel away from Robert’s numb grip and pressing his face against Robert’s waist. His nose digs into Robert’s lower belly and his bearded jaw presses against Robert’s hipbone. His breath tickles and his scruff scrapes. 

Robert closes his eyes. Allows Aaron to guide him down on the bed, spreading his legs to allow the other man better access. It’s still strange to him, to just lay down and do nothing but keep still and breathe. Can’t remember ever doing anything like it with anyone but Aaron. Before this, he always felt this need – this driving urge – to prove himself in each encounter. To make sure to leave his partner pleased and wanting for more. To give and give and give, just to make sure that he would get something back himself. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Aaron complains, his breath damp against Robert’s skin. 

“I’ll stop,” Robert promises, hips jerking as he feels a warm tongue lap at his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut, sinking into darkness as much as into the mattress. Aaron’s mouth feels warm and alive against his flesh and it chases away the last tendrils of horror from the long car drive. His body begins to feel boneless. Weightless. He’s floating, anchored to the bed only by Aaron’s touch. 

Robert moves one hand down his chest, past his belly button and the trail of soft fuzz until his fingers bump against Aaron’s nose. He traces Aaron’s stretched lips and saliva-wet chin, his bulging cheeks and the tear-damp corners of his eyes. Moves his fingers higher up, until he’s running them through gelled-down hair. Ruffles it as best as he can and listens to the sounds filling the room. His own harsh breathing. The bed creaking. Aaron’s wet grunts. 

In moments like these, it’s all too easy to get lost. To forget everything – all the demands of everyday life, all the things he has to accomplish and provide and control, the never-ending list of stuff to be constantly managed – and just exist. That’s what Aaron does to him. What he’s done to him from that very first clandestine yet somehow holy meeting. 

A choking sound, low and guttural, interrupts Robert’s thoughts. His eyes flutter open just in time to see Aaron eases back, coughing and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Easy,” Robert tells him because even like this, spread out underneath Aaron’s hungry mouth like a banquet he knows that it’s on him to keep his partner grounded. To keep Aaron from pushing himself too far, from becoming too careless of his own body’s limitations. Aaron just huffs in indignation, making a show of ignoring Robert’s counsel as he swallows him down whole, greedy and heedless of his own comfort. 

It’s just a matter of moments before Aaron gags again though and this time Robert stirs into action. He pushes up, first on his elbows and then all the way until he’s sitting on the very edge of the bed with his legs wide and Aaron kneeling in front of him. Moving slowly, giving Aaron plenty of notice in case it’s too much for him, Robert tangles his fingers into Aaron’s hair and tugs him back a few inches. They look straight at each other, Aaron’s eyes wet and grumpy. 

“Easy,” Robert repeats, waiting for Aaron to blink. 

Which he does, just as he always does if Robert’s just patient enough to wait him out, eyelashes brushing against his skin and his eyes staying on Robert’s face as he begins bobbing his head up and down again. Slow and steady he moves; the frenzy having been bleed out of him. Even so, Robert keeps his hands on Aaron’s head, not dictating his partner’s pace as much as just letting the weight of them serve as a reminder for the man to go easy on himself. 

After Robert comes, Aaron wordlessly cleans him off and eases him back down onto the bed. Tugs the duvet over them both and curls up next to Robert, still clothed and still hard. Robert can feel him, pressing up against his thigh. 

“Don’t you want to…?“ he asks. 

Aaron shakes his head and Robert, well, he knows better than to push. Feeling like he’s somehow the undeserving recipient of both apology and forgiveness, he fumbles for Aaron’s hand, holding it tight as his eyelids grow heavy and his breathing slows.


End file.
